


It's Always J

by puddingshirt



Series: Learning to Cope [17]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingshirt/pseuds/puddingshirt
Summary: Jeremy finds another friend after a race down the hallway.





	It's Always J

**Author's Note:**

> this took... forever to write and im not super sure why!

Jon isn’t really sure what happened outside his office, which is going to be hard to explain if he ends up filing an incident report about it like he’s supposed to.

There’s a bang, a yelp, and then… silence.

The silence is the weird part, so he gets out of his chair and pokes his head out. Jeremy is pushing himself off of his hands and knees to sit on his backside, against the wall opposite Jon. He cradles his wrist, looking at it with furrowed eyebrows and his lip pinched between his teeth.

“Hey, man,” Jon calls. “You alright?”

“I tripped ‘n fell,” Jeremy replies, whimpering high in his throat.

Something about this seems off. “Are you high? Or drunk?” he asks, cautiously sitting next to Jeremy.

Jeremy shakes his head. “No.” He drops his eyes back to his wrist and frowns. Jon frowns too. Jeremy should be swearing up a storm, should have been from the start. The fact that he isn’t is just… weird.

“Can I see?” Jon holds his hand out. Even if they’re acting weird, he can’t not make sure his friends are okay. Jeremy puts his hand in Jon’s, palm up. “Well, it’s not swelling,” he says, touching gently on the skin of Jeremy’s inner wrist.

At Jon’s prompts, Jeremy bends his fingers and flexes his wrist. “Am I okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, man, you’re okay. Just a little sore, I think,” Jon replies, smiling faintly. There are tear tracks drying on Jeremy’s cheeks. “Let’s get you back to your office.” He helps Jeremy stand and sighs to himself when the grip Jeremy has on his hand doesn’t loosen. Not one iota.

“It hurts,” Jeremy whines.

“Yeah, I bet.” Jon leads him back down the hallway at a much slower pace than he assumes Jeremy’d been going in the first place. “Just hold on, buddy.”

Once Jeremy punches in the code on the door and pulls it open, Michael swings around in his chair with a cat-got-the-cream grin. “You’re in trouble,” he singsongs.

Jon nudges Jeremy in so he can stand in the office and let the door shut behind him. “Someone come collect their lost child,” he announces, preparing himself for the laughter that’s for sure going to come next. None comes.

Instead everyone looks tense and drawn.

“I didn’t tell him nothin’,” Jeremy immediately defends himself. “I just,” he starts. “I was running down the hallway and I tripped ‘n fell and he helped me up and now we’re here.”

Jon feels like he’s staring down a pack of snarling dogs. The hair on the back of his neck prickles. “Uh,” he says.

“Uh-oh,” Gavin says. And he has that same, weird sort of tone Jeremy did. Jon looks at him, and then at Geoff, who sighs with his entire body.

Geoff rubs his forehead, and then pushes his hand through his hair. “Why is it  _ always _ Jeremy?” he mutters. “No more kids, J. No more. We have enough.” He points at Jeremy. Then, to Jon, he says, “I don’t know how much you know about age regression as a coping mechanism, but if you say one word about it to anyone outside this office. I will  _ end you _ .”

“I… do not know a lot, but my lips are sealed.” He pauses. “I am definitely not a kid. By the way. I’m absolutely my own age.”

“Cool. Perfect. Awesome.” Geoff rubs his forehead some more.

“So, uh… does… everyone do the thing?” Jon asks.

“Yes and no,” Trevor jumps in, saving Geoff from whatever his gears were cranking up to churn out. “Sometimes I’m ten, sometimes I’m not.” He shrugs. “Mostly Rye, Jack, Geoff, and I just take care of who’s small. Like Jer-bear right now.”

Helpfully, taking Jon’s hand again, Jeremy crows, “I’m three!” in the proudest--and youngest, now that Jon’s thinking hard about it--tone he can muster. “And Mikey is eight.”

“I thought  _ I _ was eight,” Gavin interrupts, “And Mikey was seven.”

“No, you’re seven. You were eight last time. It’s my turn,” Michael--Mikey?--says, shoving at Gavin’s chair. Jeremy drags Jon to his desk and starts handing him toys.

“You’re  _ always _ older,” Gavin whines.

“Play dragons with me!” Jeremy demands, holding out a Spyro Funko-Pop. He’s got another one clutched in his hand. Jon takes it, trading him for the puppy he’d been handed. Mikey and Gavin arguing turns into background noise.

Turns out  _ playing dragons _ is easier than it sounds: all Jeremy does is tap the Spyros together and make whooshing noises.

So Jon takes matters into his own hands. He’s got nieces, he can do this. With the fingers of his free hand arched into claws, he reaches for Jeremy. “The brain sucker’s gonna get you, buddy,” he warns.

“No!” Jeremy protests. Then, he puts his hands on his hips. “The brain sucker’s not gonna get anything from me,” he insists.

Jon fights hard to keep from laughing aloud. “You sure?” he asks. Jeremy nods, self-satisfactory.

“Jeremy’s got no brains!” Mikey hollers.

It almost turns into a chant, getting repeated twice until Ryan cuts it off with a gentle, “Hey, that’s enough, kiddo.” Mikey doesn’t look even the slightest bit cowed, even when Jeremy turns dewy puppy-dog eyes on him.

All Jon can do is smile and shake his head.

Then Jeremy turns his attention to Geoff. “Can he stay?” he asks.

Geoff makes a tired gesture and sighs loudly--mostly show, Jon realizes as he pokes his head around his computer and smiles at the boy. “Sure, I  _ guess _ . But only if he wants to.”

That puppy-dog eyes gaze turns to him, and he just can’t resist. “I’ll stay, buddy.” Jeremy’s tight hug has gotta be the best response he could’ve hoped for.

What a day--and that doesn't even include the forgotten-about wrist.


End file.
